


Day Thirty: Doing Something Hot (AKA: Love The Way You Are)

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 30 Days of OTP: Bond/Q [30]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, A real one, Cooking, Doing something Hot, Hurt/Comfort, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Memories, Ocean, Relaxation, Vacation, angsty bits, no violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bungalow by the beach; a week away from the world. A snapshot of a morning in the life of James Bond and Q - a simple addition problem that equals so much more than 1+1=2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Thirty: Doing Something Hot (AKA: Love The Way You Are)

**BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ -**

“Mfghhfuck, wha - who th’ hell...”

A pale hand slithered out from under the covers and slapped at the bedside table blindly until it encountered the alarm clock. It poked and prodded at the buttons on the top, none of which helped to turn off the insistent buzz of the alarm. A larger arm joined the first in the effort, and with one yank, the alarm clock was ripped off the table and thrown in the general direction of the wall of windows facing the ocean. Thankfully, it didn’t actually hit the glass, but it was a near thing. And as a bonus, the buzzing stopped.

“Loud noise gone. Go back to sleep,” a deep voice murmured from the white comforters covering the two occupants of the bed.

“Ugh. Sleep. Pointless unless it’s necessary.” The covers flipped back enough to reveal silver-blond hair and a mop of brownish black that moved against the pillows. “In which case, then sleep. But it isn’t necessary, because I’ve slept for longer this week than I have in any given month back in England.”

“Remind me to not let you give speeches at fuck all o’clock in the morning, Evan.” James opened his clear blue eyes and nipped at the Quartermaster’s bare shoulder, making the younger man yelp in surprise and skitter back under the covers. The agent only laughed, and grabbed the edge of the comforter to flip it completely off of them both.

“Argh, _damn_ it, James!” Q scrambled to reach the sheets before they left the bed, but to little avail - he managed to grab only the thin Egyptian cotton sheet and wrapped that around his naked body. “There are windows, and none have curtains! People do populate this island, you know!”

James leaned over and nipped Q’s shoulder again. “And not one of them is going to give a shit about a beautiful genius wandering around his bungalow with no clothes on.”

“I care!” Q rolled out of the bed, taking the sheet with him, and padded across the room to where the clothing they’d arrived in lay in scattered clumps on the bamboo floorboards. He bent down and snatched his trousers up. “Where are my pants?”

“We won’t need those.” James stood as Q turned halfway around, and the hacker halted mid-scathing-retort as he took in the agent in all of his naked glory. James grinned at him. “I’m sorry, were you going to say something? Perhaps call me an arse? Throw your pants at me?”

Q muttered something that sort of sounded like a keysmash, and James laughed, his grin growing even brighter. “You are the only person who can actually fully articulate a sound like that.”

Q shook himself and glared at James. “Oh, shove _off_ , you persistent bastard.” He kicked at the clothing on the floor, then gave up on the pants and dropped the sheet. The sunlight peeking through the tropical trees outside the bungalow washed over his skin, creating a tapestry of shadows and light. Each muscle his body used in the action of pulling his trousers over his thighs and hips played underneath his skin. Now it was James who found himself staring, slack-jawed, at his boyfriend. And even after all this time, the very word itself - boyfriend - tended to send little shivers of happiness and disbelief through the agent. But it wasn’t the word _this_ time. He licked his dry lips and watched Q finish buttoning up and walk towards the open doorway, presumably to the kitchen.

“I’m going to get some coffee going, and make us a fry-up. I hope MI6 had this place stocked up, because if Alec makes good on his threat to suddenly appear here... he eats like a bleeding horse some days, I swear!”

James’s smile threatened to take over his whole face as he listened to Q continue to make conversation through the doorway, barely audible over the - _oh, he went to the lav first, the sink faucet is running._

“And if you two decide to blow something up in the lawn again, I want either pictures or warning beforehand, because waking up... _mutter mutter mutter_...isn’t my idea of a good night’s rest - “ The shower turned on as James picked up the discarded clothing - “Wait, I didn’t want to do that, what was I doing...oh, making breakfast! And coffee, coffee is good in the morning. Well, it’s good all the time, but that’s not a problem right now...” The soft tread of Q’s walk disappeared into the kitchen, and there was no way in hell that the smile was going to leave James’ face now. He tossed the armful of clothing in the hamper’s general direction and walked into the master bathroom to find the shower still running, the steam billowing out of the glass enclosed cubicle reminding him of his most recent mission to the wilds of the Amazon rainforest - and the memories weren’t the greatest, if he was completely honest with himself. His expression faltered a bit, then left completely to be replaced with a tense discomfort as flashes of angry guards, computer monitors, and tonnes of drugs torched at dawn flickered through his mind like a flipbook. He looked down to find his hands gripping the edge of the counter, white knuckles interspersed with small scabs and pinkish scars, and realised he was breathing in the steam too harshly. He brought his face back up to look into the mirror, fearing what he would find there. Instead of a grizzled, broken man, he found Q - Evan - behind him, looking on with the barest expression of worry in his eyes.

“When did you come back in here?” James surprised himself when his voice didn’t whip-crack out or snap, despite his uneven emotional state. Q cocked his head and placed a soft hand over his shoulder blade, rubbing lightly.

“You should take a shower, lovely. I’ve got something resembling eggs in a pan, but I’m pretty sure the bread is fossilised by now.”

James huffed out a raw sound that tried to mask itself as a laugh. He knew it didn’t fool the hacker, but he also knew that Q would hear it for what it was meant to be and leave it at that. Q had been there too, every step of the way through the jungle and through the compound. He was there when James had slaughtered the guards, had put the man behind the operation into the ground with a double tap to the forehead. He was there when James had been backed into a corner in the compound with no ammo and little room to maneuver, and Q had been the one that - with a few keystrokes - had blown the control room and provided the distraction James needed to lay waste to England’s enemies once more. James allowed the light pressure of Q’s fingertips to work out a knot to the side of his shoulder, and dropped his head so that he could loosen his grip on the marble.

“I should, shouldn’t I?”

Q nodded at their reflections. “A shower, then breakfast.”

“Did the oranges survive?”

Q’s fingers paused. “Oranges? We had - oh. Um...I sent them off to primary school. Made them sandwiches and everything. Lots of peanut butter around here.”

That made James laugh, and his dark mood lightened a tad, just enough that he was able to move away from both the counter and the steadying warmth of Q’s hand and step into the hot spray of water. The stinging spray helped sluice away more of the mood, and he just stood there beneath the shower head and breathed in the humid air, replacing the memories of the wet heat of the jungle with the wet heat of Q’s mouth and arse last night. He could hear his hacker puttering around in the cabinet over the sink, then listened to his footsteps retreat back to the kitchen, most likely to rescue the eggs before they turned into a fire hazard in a pan.

The water stayed hot for a good half hour, and by the time James managed to wash his hair and body, the dark mood had lifted completely. He turned the faucets off and stepped out into cooler air - Q had left the door wide open. A small part of Bond was eternally grateful to the forgetful man, but a larger, snarkier part of him was shivering and cursing. He smiled and wiped a overly fluffy grey towel over his body as an afterthought before walking out of the lavatory to the open plan kitchen and living room. The television screen across from the couch was dark, but the stereo system had Q’s iPod attached to it.

Q stood at the stove, humming to Disturbed as he poked at sausage in the pan. He seemed unaware of Bond, so the agent moved just behind him and arranged the towel around his hips, then reached into the open cabinet for two plates.

“Oh, the beer in the refrigerator is viable.” Q turned to look at James. “The milk is off. Again.” He grumbled under his breath, his brows knitting together unhappily. “I can’t see why the suppliers can’t get this right.” He blinked. “You aren’t wearing anything under that towel, are you.”

James’ lips quirked up. “Nope.”

Q sighed and moved the pan off of the hob, then leaned up against the metal handle of the oven door. “Come here then.”

James stepped forward into Q’s embrace, reaching over the man’s shoulder to turn off the hob completely. Q snorted.

“Sorry, I tend to -”

“Hush.” James bent down and kissed his boyfriend. “None of that. How long have I been living with you in my life?”

Q sighed happily as James’ lips moved over his jawline and down the skin of his neck, and pushed his hips forward against James’, groaning low in his chest when he encountered one of his favourite bits on the man. “Long enough to follow me around making sure I don’t take toasters into the tub or stick my hands into the guts of electronics that are still plugged in?”

James hummed against Q’s pulse point, making goosebumps rise on the hacker’s skin. “And turning off the hob and closing doors. Not to mention turning off televisions, lights, and computers. And rescuing burnt eggs and toast and pizza.”

“The mystery of the furry Thai takeout box.” Q chuckled as he licked along the shell of Bond’s ear.

“The curious case of ‘Why is every light in the flat on and Q is nowhere to be found’.” James nibbled at Q’s collarbone, leaving little red spots along the curve, and his hands traveled lightly over Q’s ribcage, tapping at each rib on their way down to his hipbones, where Bond paused to trace over the waistline of the brown trousers Q had pulled on earlier. Q shivered against him, and more goosebumps popped up along his midline.

“Ah...the disappearance of James Bond’s favourite pair of pants.” Q gasped, his hands going tight against Bond’s back as the agent’s fingers disappeared into the waistband and played with the small amount of hair leading down to his cock. “Which we managed to find stuffed inbetween the cushions of the sofa.”

“A week later.” James murmured, and ducked his head down to flick his tongue at Q’s nipple. Q sucked a breath in, and pushed his hands down to the towel, untying the haphazard knot and dropping the material to the floor. James growled against Q’s pectoral muscle and sank his teeth into the skin there as Q rubbed his palms over his arse and pulled him closer, pressing naked prick against clothed prick. They both let out a little moan at the contact, and then Bond’s hands were busy tugging at the closure of Q’s trousers. “Fucking _told_ you we didn’t need clothing this week. Why did you put these _fucking_ things back on?”

“Because...oh, _shit, James,_ that feels good...because I don’t fancy walking around the kitchen with hot grease while wearing nothing but my skin...” Q had to stop to take another breath because _what the hell is this man doing to me?_ James slipped the trousers down to the floor, and followed them down, hitting his knees in front of Q and wrapping his large hand around Q’s prick, working the foreskin over the head and passing his thumb through the precome gathering at the tip. “Oh, damn it man, you are _impossible._ ”

James only hummed and leaned forward, flicking his tongue out and licking around the head once, twice - then moved past to nuzzle into the spot where Q’s leg joined with the rest of his body and inhale the heady scent that was Q’s and Q’s alone. They’ve been together long enough where the foreplay leading up to the sex wasn’t so much desperate pawing and needy growls of ‘more, damn it, give it to me’ as loving licks and happy purring and long moments worshipping skin and what was inside that skin. _And now I’m envisioning us as cats, damn it_. Q giggled when Bond hit a ticklish spot with his wet tongue, and he could feel the man smile against his inner thigh and shift a little on his bad knee as he turned his head and licked at one on Q’s balls. Q’s eyes fluttered shut on a moan of pleasure, and he moved one hand back to grip the oven door handle so that he could spread his legs, to give the agent more room to work with as Bond worked Q’s prick with one hand and sucked the ball he’d licked into his mouth and pressed his tongue against it. Q groaned at the pressure, then jumped a tiny bit when he felt a finger pressing at his entrance. He was still relaxed from the marathon session of sex they’d started the moment they had stepped into the bungalow, desperate for something other than England and war and death and _bloody MI6_. He breathed out, and felt Bond’s thick finger sink in just past the first ring of muscle, and he felt more than heard the groan of lust the agent let loose around the flesh in his mouth. The vibrations reverberated up Q’s spine and through his guts, and his knees went weak. He could also feel something else as Bond’s finger started to press further, seeking out multiple sensitive targets: the beginnings of a promising orgasm, low in his stomach.

“Bloody _fuck. Oh_ , James, you...how can I - _fuck_ \- be so close _already?_ ” He pushed his free hand into James’ hair and pulled him back, off of him, and looked into those lust-blown blue eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Evan.” Bond pulled against the hand gripped in his hair and nuzzled at Q’s throbbing prick. “I love everything about you. Now, can I do this?”

“Breakfast, James.” Q could hear the grease coagulating on the sausages, and discovered he could wince and moan at the same time as Bond licked a stripe up his cock. “What about -”

“Take out. I’m sure there’s a place that delivers around here.” James pressed a kiss midway, and traced a vein with the very tip of his tongue. Q’s grip on the metal and James’ hair twitched and tightened. I’m going to lose my fucking mind.

“We are on an _island_.”

“Fresh fish from the sea, and local fruits.”

Q laughed, then gasped when the finger - _no, two, when did_ that _happen_ \- shifted inside him. “Funny. I wanted - _oh!_ \- eggs, damn it, and _damn you_ and your insistent - “ He broke off when Bond curled his fingers inside of him and sucked him down his throat. _“Oh, fuck._ Fuck! Fingers, your insistent fingers are going to be the death of me yet, you complete _slut!_ ”

James pulled off to laugh and smirk up at the hacker, then swallowed him back down, right down to the root. That was all Q needed; a couple swallows and a bit of humming had him shaking and coming into Bond’s mouth and shivering out a surprisingly strong orgasm, considering the activities of the night before. His knees finally gave out, and the agent caught him up into his arms as they both sank down to the floorboards. The towel and Q’s trousers served as pillows well enough, and James arranged them beneath their heads as they lay on the floor, snuggled into each other’s arms and kissing lazily. The cooking remained on the stove, cooling and becoming rather inedible by the minute.

Not that Q gave two walloping shits anymore about it.

  
  
  
  
  


The surf rolled softly against the white sand, a calming sound that worked miracles for James. He loved the ocean; no matter if it was the murderous crashing walls against the rocks in Scotland, the frozen deathtraps in Norway, the flat glittering vastness of the open sea he’d see from the bow of a ship, or what he saw here: warm, quiet, and relaxing. He lay back on the sand, letting the sun wash over his tanned body, and wriggled his feet into the powdery sand, relishing the feeling of the warmth between his toes. He could hear Q at the little beachside bar, getting them drinks - none of that fluffy pink and blue and green concoctions one would normally see in the man’s hands if he were drinking around Eve and everyone else, either. They had been drinking straight vodkas and Scotches since they’d arrived.

The sand softened the hacker’s approach, but James could tell he was coming by his low voice muttering away, and the light thump as he sat down on the sand.

“He try haggling you?”

Q snorted. “Pointless effort, but he tried anyway.”

James smiled into the sun. “Just wait until tonight. I’ll show them the scorpion trick, and we won’t have to pay for another drink for the rest of our vacation.”

That made Q laugh. “I’m probably quick enough to do it.”

James cracked open one eye and looked at him. “Probably. I’ll teach it to you. You get to impress Eve into our bed, then.”

“Oh, _Lord_ , that would be a disaster.” Q chuckled, and took a long pull out of his glass. “Three bossy people in bed? Utter nightmare. One of us will be on the couch in a matter of hours, and I will be damned if it will be me.”

James couldn’t help the bark of laughter that rolled out of him. “You say that now. Just wait. Between you and me, we’ll have her begging.”

“Highly doubtful. You need to do your research, James Bond.” Q held up his glass, studying the sunlight through the amber liquid. The reflection gave his face a lovely golden glow that had James leaning up on his elbow and ducking in for a long, indulgent snog. Q hummed into his mouth and rolled his tongue against Bond’s lips. James could taste the buttery flavour of the Scotch in Q’s mouth, and it made his brain go all fuzzy again. After a while, Q pulled away and licked his own lips. “Mmm, vodka tastes _so_ much better on you, lovely.”

“I’m sure it does.” James offered him one more smirk, then flopped back down into the sand and closed his eyes again. Q settled down right next to him, and snuggled up against his side. “Did you remember the sun repellent?”

“Hm?” Q looked at him strangely. “Don’t you mean sun screen?”

James chuckled. “Have you seen yourself in the sun? You are the same colour as the sand. You must use repellent.”

“Oh, shove off.” Q slapped his arm, and settled back down with a happy hum. “I didn’t bring much. I want a tan.”

“Good. You get transparent during winter.”

“Again, shove off.”

James smiled and let his whole body, mind, and soul finally relax.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is it. The last day, a long time coming because I just didn't know how I wanted to end it. A mission, a mistake in Q's workshop, something crazy, even something as simple as fireworks. But in the end, I came up with this.
> 
> You all have been so lovely, and nice, and I want to hug you all in real life for reading this and loving it (or hating it, doesn't matter, you gave it a shot - that's all that matters to me :) ) This has been fun, and demanding, and at times a bit scary as I sat there and tore hair out of my head while thinking NO ONE IS GOING TO LIKE THIS. 
> 
> It's over now, and here's the last chapter/installment/whatever you call it. Um. I do plan on having more to do with this little world I have created, with parrots and dogs and ice cream and purple Bullets and crazy men with guns. But I have so much more to finish that it might be a while. *HUGS EVERYONE* 
> 
> So here's to you, lovelies. Stay frosty.
> 
> \- a_xmasmurder (otherwise known as monster)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to everyone in Antidiogenes and Innercircle for all you do. Stay classy, lovelies.


End file.
